Untitled Scrubs Slash
by murron1
Summary: Scrubs Slash:: JD Dr. Cox ...a stolen kiss in a hospital bathroom
1. Default Chapter

"Hey."  
  
"Hey, what? Are you implying something?"  
  
Wait, backtrack a little. I wake up this morning exactly three minutes before I am supposed to be at work. Good thing I have superhuman powers, or I would have been late.  
  
Okay, so maybe I'm a little late. Ten minutes, that's it.  
  
Well, maybe Fifteen. And that's really not that late. I didn't even have time to do my hair.  
  
So, as I race through the doors of the hospital, I see the Janitor. And apparently I have developed a taste for torture, because I decide to acknowledge him. In a friendly matter. No sarcasm. I swear. And still with the accusations.  
  
So, back to our riveting conversation.  
  
"Uh.no, just 'hey'" I give my friendliest grimace.  
  
"Really? Because I could have sworn you were implying something."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Because if you were implying something, I will find out." He squints at me sideways.  
  
" 'Kay." I race off before he can block my way. Note to self: stay away from him today. He seems more paranoid than usual. Maybe off his meds?  
  
I make it to the desk from the doors in record time, panting, and find Carla looking over a chart.  
  
"Hey, Carla."  
  
"Hey Bambi." She looks up and starts. "What's with the hair. Did you stick your finger in a socket this morning?"  
  
"It's a new trend, 'bedhead' All the cool guys are doing it."  
  
"Uh.huh."  
  
"Really. They are."  
  
"OK, Bambi. Anyway, watch out for Kelso. He's on the warpath."  
  
"Kelso? That senile old." I watch a look of horror spread over Carla's face. She draws her finger across her neck.  
  
Oh God.  
  
No.  
  
He did not just walk around the corner and hear me say that. That would be too predictable.  
  
Too typical.  
  
Too cliché.  
  
I turn to find.Dr. Kelso. Smiling. Malicious bastard.  
  
"Dr. Dorian, how nice of you to join us this morning."  
  
"Oh, hey Dr. Kelso. I didn't hear you come up behind me there." I paste on a shit-eating grin.  
  
"No? You could have fooled me."  
  
"Fool you, sir? Never!"  
  
"Kindly remove your lips from my ass, Dr. Dorian."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Now, since you decided to show up last today, all of the good patients are gone." He grabs two charts from the general clutter of the desk. "So, sport, what'll it be? The triplets with projectile vomiting in exam two? Or the drunk high-school baton twirler in four?"  
  
I stare at him in mute dread, not liking where this is going.  
  
"Do you want to know where the baton is?"  
  
I shake my head slightly, really not liking where this is going.  
  
He drops the chart into my waiting hands.  
  
"Well, you're going to find out. Enjoy."  
  
I sigh and nod, heading for exam four. I only make it a few steps.  
  
"Oh, Dr. Dorian?" I turn to see a huge grin on Kelso's face. "Have a nice day." He disappears around a corner.  
  
If only I could shoot lasers out of my eyes.  
  
***********  
  
Seven horrible hours later. One hour left of my shift. All I want is to go home and be alone. By myself.  
  
I found out where the baton was. You don't want to know. Really.  
  
And the day really hasn't improved since then.  
  
I'm walking down the hallway, when who comes around the corner but my good friend the Janitor.  
  
No way in hell. Not happening.  
  
I make an about-face, only to be confronted with another potential calamity. Here comes Dr. Cox, and he looks rather not happy. Rather really not happy. In fact, I can see the big ol' vein in his forehead pulsing dangerously from twenty feet away.  
  
Oh god.  
  
I duck into the door onto my right. A washroom. The men's room, as luck would have it. I walk over to the sink and lean over it, heaving a sigh of relief.  
  
But then the door opens, and in comes Dr. Cox, and he looks righteously pissed.  
  
"Why are you following me?!" I blurt out. I really couldn't help myself. Really.  
  
He stops dead in his tracks, so fast that his shoes squeak on the tile floor. God, am I in for it.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Jenny. I was under the impression that this was a public bathroom. But apparently, while I wasn't looking someone made it into your own private little kingdom. Is that right?"  
  
"No, b."  
  
"And, silly old me, I just thought that maybe I would be permitted to come in here and wash my hands. You see, some little ankle biter with a cold or the flu or the bubonic plague or whatever decided that my hands here" he held them up, palms towards me, "would be the absolutely perfect place to blow his cute little button nose. And I thought that maybe, if it's okay with you of course, I could wash them off before I went down to the cafeteria to eat whatever they're passing off as food today. So, what do you say? Can I? Pretty please?"  
  
By now I'm blushing and feeling like a complete idiot. I move out of the way and gesture towards the sink, "Be my guest."  
  
He mock-curtseys in my general direction and moves to wash his hands while I watch him from behind.  
  
"Is there some reason that me washing my hands warrants such rapt fascination from you, Carol?"  
  
I jump and stutter something unintelligible out and he shrugs indifferently and moves to grab some paper towel.  
  
"Are you going to hide in here for the rest of your shift?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Well, good luck with that." He moves for the door, but suddenly I am desperate for someone to talk to.  
  
"I'm just having a really bad day."  
  
He turns back and looks at me.  
  
"Why are you telling me this? If you want me to be your shrink, you're going to have to start paying me five hundred an hour."  
  
"I just though..."  
  
"Well, you thought wrong. I have better things to do than listening to you and your little peon friends whine about the mundane details of your vapid little lives."  
  
I'm staring at the floor and my throat is beginning to ache.  
  
"And now you're going to cry because I'm just a big meanie, and I don't understand how hard you have it and etcetera etcetera etcetera. Well, boo- hoo." He pretends to rub his eyes.  
  
I can't help it. The first tears slide down my face, slipping off the end of my chin.Drip drip.  
  
He is quiet for a minute, and I look up at him. He is staring back at me with disbelief.  
  
"Are you actually crying? God, this is a first" He cocks his head to one side, "Dorian, not even Nervous Guy actually cries. Nervous Guy! He's a walking brain aneurysm, for God's sake!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Cox." I scrub at my eyes."I...wait, what did you just call me?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You just called me 'Dorian'."  
  
"Dorian is a girl's name."  
  
"Dorian is my name!"  
  
"Exactly." He stares at me, with something that might be construed as concern in his face.  
  
"Have you stopped...uh...leaking yet?"  
  
"I got it under control." I am so lying.  
  
"My, isn't this awkward?" He clears his throat. "I'll make you a deal. I will do whatever it takes to get out of here in the shortest time possible."  
  
"All I really need is a hug."  
  
"Hell no."  
  
"Please?"  
  
He sighs and rolls his eyes, "Fine." He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Just let me brace myself."  
  
Finally a nod from him, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around my shoulders ineptly. I snug my arms around his hips.  
  
We stand like this for a minute, and suddenly I get a notion in my head. I have no idea where it comes from. But there it is.  
  
I twist my neck so I can press my lips to his, and to my surprise, he is rather receptive.  
  
The kiss is short, but rather engaging, if I do say so myself.  
  
As we separate, I keep my eyes on his. His cheeks are the primary red of kindergarten finger-paint. His eyes look a bit...crazed.  
  
"If you ever tell anyone about this, I swear they'll never find your body."  
  
"Yeah." I can't keep the endearing grin from spreading over my face.  
  
"Yeah." He snorts and smiles despite himself, shaking his head as he turns to leave. The door doesn't even have a chance to swing behind him as he leaves. The Janitor appears in the doorway, as if by magic.  
  
"Hey." He winks at me.  
  
"Are you implying something?" I squeak.  
  
"I'm not not implying something."  
  
"Were you listening this whole time?"  
  
"I wasn't not listening."  
  
Crap. Double super crap.How to get out of this sticky situation?  
  
Ah yes.  
  
"BANANA HAMMOCK!" I shout, rather too loudly, as I duck under his arm and careen down the hall. ********  
  
The end. Mrow. 


	2. Parking Lots and Drunk Sincerity

TITLE: Parking Lots and Drunk Sincerity  
  
FANDOM: Scrubs  
  
PAIRING: JD/ Dr. Cox  
  
AUTHOR: Murron  
  
RATING: PG-13ish (oooh, there might even be some swearing tsk tsk)  
  
SUMMARY: Just a continuation.  
  
DISCLAIMER: sue me!  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: First, I kinda stole the title from an Ataris song called "So Long Astoria", just because it kinda fit and because I haven't an imagination to be found. And I kinda take a potshot a certain hockey goalie *couCuJogh*, no offense if there are any Wings fans reading this, but I hate him from the bottom of my bitter, evil little soul. A Leafs fan is like an elephant, we never forget. He is stupid, you shall never convince me otherwise! Mwa. Ha. Ha. Other than that, R+R, thanks.  
  
**************  
  
"Newbie, you can't avoid me forever."  
  
Oh, but I can try! It's been three days since the little.incident in the bathroom, and I've managed to not be in the same room with Dr. Cox since then. It hasn't been easy. But when you fear for your life, nothing else matters. He said they would never find my body. And I think he was serious.  
  
But now he's got me. I let my guard down for one minute and he corners me in the storage room while I'm looking for a syringe. Dammit! This room is secluded. No one will hear me scream.  
  
My face is on fire already. I can't look him in the eye.  
  
"Now, Shirley, we need to have a little talk, wouldn't you think?"  
  
No no no. We need to repress. We need to forget. That's what we need to do.  
  
My shoulders slump and I nod. I'm still looking at the floor. Ew. I'll have to talk to the Janitor about the crappy job he did in here. Ha. Like that'll happen.  
  
"So, tonight, eight o clock, you and me. There's this little bar on the corner by."  
  
He's giving me directions, but I'm tuned out again. Outside the hospital? Dr. Perry Cox, he who almost broke my leg the first time I tried to hang with him outside work, he who said he would move if I ever came over to his apartment again, wants me to meet him outside of work hours? Oh god, I think I'm in bigger trouble than I thought.  
  
"Can't we just, I dunno, talk here?" I break in while he's still in mid- sentence. I mean, if we have to talk, at least we could do it where I could get prompt medical attention.  
  
"Not a good idea, genius."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Dr. Cox?" A nurse pokes her head around the door. "We need you. The guy in four is crashing." She bustles off.  
  
"That's why." He nods in the direction of the hallway. "So, are you going to come or not?"  
  
"I.think.uh.busy."  
  
"JD, look at me. Do I look angry?" No. For the first time in days I look him square in the face, and he looks.hopeful, maybe?  
  
"Then for god's sake, stop giving me the cold shoulder and come."  
  
He's gone out the door in an instant. I guess he doesn't see me nod.  
  
************ 8:30. I make it to the bar.  
  
I didn't mean to be late. Really. After my initial doubts, I actually started to look forward to ironing things out with Dr. Cox. But then my tool of a resident pawned some patient off on me just as I was leaving. Bastard. And then the bus was late. Piece of crap.  
  
I've never been to this place before, and with good reason. It's almost deserted, and a dive at that. I catch sight of Dr. Cox as soon as I walk in. He's the only one sitting at the long, greasy-looking counter, sitting on a high stool, hunched over on his elbows, his legs wrapped back around the rungs like a little kid. It's odd seeing him out of his scrubs, in jeans and a tight, black t-shirt, his shoulder blades and the bunched muscles of his upper back clearly outlined through the material. Damn, he looks strong. He must work out.  
  
Oh god! What am I thinking about that for?! No, not happening! Bad JD!  
  
I sidle up to him. He's already got three empty beer bottles in front of him. And it's Canadian beer. That's like six American beers! Damn, am I in deep. He's working on a fourth.  
  
"Hey, Dr. Cox." I sit down awkwardly beside him.  
  
"Newbie!" He sounds almost surprised. And completely drunk. "I'd given up on you, buddy!"  
  
The bartender waddles over. "What'll it be?"  
  
"Just a Coke, please." A snort of laughter, but he plunks the can down on the counter. No glass. Very classy.  
  
I turn back to Dr. Cox, who has engrossed himself in the silent hockey game playing on the TV, riveted to the wall just below ceiling level.  
  
Think of something to say to him. Think of something to say to him. Think of something to say to him.  
  
"Who's playing?" Classic icebreaker.  
  
"The stupid Red Wings. Their stupid goalie can never keep the stupid puck out of the stupid net. Jackass waste of payroll!"  
  
"Yeah, he's stupid all right." Who the hell is he talking about? I'm in over my head.  
  
But he doesn't seem to notice. We fall into a comfortable silence. Well, for him it's comfortable. But it just gives me time to get more and more awkward, and a little angry as well. Why did he drag me out here when I could have been at home getting some much-needed sleep? If we were going to talk, why did he get tanked before I even arrived.  
  
Twenty minutes have passed, and we've barely said ten words. I'm fed up. My piss-warm Coke is gone anyways.  
  
I get up to leave.  
  
"Where are you going. Aren't you having fun?"  
  
"I gotta get some sleep." I sidestep his question, blushing again for no reason, and I quasi-stalk out of the place, into the cool night. The parking lot is half-lit with streetlights. How the hell am I going to get home. The next bus doesn't come for twenty minutes. I stand with my hands in my pockets, staring up at the stars.  
  
"Newbie, wait!" He comes out the door, struggling into a jacket. He looks a little wobbly, but not nearly so smashed as I first thought he was. He makes it to where I'm standing and grabs my arm. "You can't leave. You forgot to pay, so I had to pay for you. You know what that means."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Now you have to put out. Them's the rules."  
  
I shake my head and pull away from him.  
  
"Ah, c'mon, not even a smile?". He tries to get me with the puppy-dog eyes.  
  
"I'm not in the mood for this shit. I'm going home."  
  
"JD, please? I don't know what to say to you."  
  
I look at him incredulously, really furious now. "You could start by telling me why you decided to get totally piss-drunk tonight before I even got here, when we were supposed to have a very serious conversation. And then you can stop with the fucking pussy-footing and tell me what I really want to know. Do you want this to go somewhere?"  
  
"JD, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I could even be here if I wasn't half-plastered?" He's staring at me like an injured animal, breathing heavy. "Would I be here if I didn't want this to go somewhere?" He stares at me levelly, letting the weight sink in.  
  
Did he just say what I think he did?  
  
Hallelujah! This is like winning the Superbowl. I can't stop the goofy grin that appears on my face.  
  
"We good?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good. Now, help me find my car. I think you're going to have to drive me home. I'm not feeling too good."  
  
"Serves you right. Maybe it was the copious amount of booze you just had."  
  
"Maybe." He slings an arm around my shoulder and we totter off to his car. He fishes the keys out of his pocket, tosses them to me.  
  
We drive in silence. Mostly because he falls asleep the instant we are in motion, his forehead pressed against the glass of the passenger-side window.  
  
I park and shake him awake. He comes to with a snort, blinking at me in confusion for a moment.  
  
"Hey." I smile at him.  
  
"Hey," he croaks out. "Home?"  
  
"Yeah, we're here."  
  
"Wanna come up?"  
  
*********  
  
Mwahahahahahaha! Will they? Won't they? Only time will tell! Cliffhangers are maliciously fun. 


End file.
